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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055832">Oathbound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta'>Catsitta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oathbound [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Angst, Arranged Marriage, Drama, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Hints of preromance if you squint, Implied Fellcest, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Karma - Freeform, Kedgeup, King Papyrus (Undertale), M/M, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - King Papyrus Ending, Power Imbalance, Sans (Undertale) Has Issues, Some Humor, Spicy Kedgeup, SpicyKustard, Swearing, Ultimatums, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), light kustard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:41:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans is sworn to obey the crown. The very one that now rests on his brother’s head. They’ve made it work—Sans continuing his work as Advisor and Judge in this dark, fragile timeline, and Papyrus acting the role of King. But it all falls apart when invaders from an alternate timeline cross the boundary between their worlds and threaten war. The Underground cannot survive further casualties and in both good faith and desperation, Papyrus does what any ruler would do to save his people. </p><p>He signs a treaty.</p><p>Spicy Kedgeup | King Papyrus Ending | No More Resets</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oathbound [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Treaty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was supposed to be a oneshot. Then it suddenly wasn't. Been working on this for the better part of the year when suddenly I got a bug in my brain and was just like 'I must finish this!' So yeah. Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“SANS, YOU MUST REMAIN HERE!”</p><p>	Sans lurched against the ancient magic snaking through his own, tethering him in place, shortcut interrupted. He stared at the arched doorway leading out of the Judgement Hall into the rest of the castle, disbelief colder than the invisible chains weighing him down, denying him agency. The thump of boots rang loud in the golden hall, where light always streamed through stained-glass windows, and only the innocent were at peace. Asgore hated this place when he was alive. His sins laid bare before the young Judge chosen to serve as advisor and arbitrator for the Crown. Sans was only a child when he was drawn to this place and bound to the monarchy by vows he could not deny. </p><p>	A shadow fell upon him and he looked up. Up at the younger brother now bedecked in royal purple, the Delta Rune emblazoned across the front of his armor. Papyrus always wanted to be a royal guard, with shiny metal armor to polish and a sword to brandish. Now he was King. Elected to the position in the wake of everyone else of any status...vanishing. Sans knew the truth. He knew that the human went on a killing spree, dusting monsters without heed. The only one that survived a direct encounter with the human was Papyrus. </p><p>	He recalled the lifeless smile on its face as it strolled through the Judgement Hall, as if it knew Sans wouldn’t (couldn’t) act against it. It was right, of course, between Sans’ own disinclination towards fighting and the lingering binds of a promise made...his only option was to do nothing. To let it pass, kill the king and vanish beyond the barrier. </p><p>	The human souls gone with it.</p><p>	His brother had no idea what his new position meant. Likeable and strong, perfect for maintaining the floundering morale...but beyond that? He had no administrative talents. He still believed that humans could be good. That his friends would someday come back and this was all temporary. Sans did all the real work. But it was better that way. He wasn’t fit for leadership. The Underground would be Hopeless with a skeleton like Sans at the head of things, since all he had to offer was a smile and heaps of shitty jokes about how they were all going to die down here and never see the sun.</p><p>	“Paps…”</p><p>	Papyrus struck a heroic pose, but his grin was shaky, “THE GREAT KING PAPYRUS WILL HANDLE THESE RUFFIANS! THEY DID ASK FOR AN AUDIENCE WITH ME, AND WHAT KIND OF SKELETON WOULD I BE IF I LET A SUMMONS GO UNANSWERED?” </p><p>	Alive. The word rang louder than the bells that chime the hour through New Home. Sweat broke out on Sans’ skull and he shoved his hands into his pockets. The ratty blue hoodie had seen better days. “you heard the report. they have significant lv and—.” They were seen attacking other monsters. The guardsman refrained from divulging to Papyrus that there were deaths involved, instead conveying it to Sans with their eyes. It was the worst kept secret in the castle that Papyrus might wear the title, but it was the elder brother that handled the logistics. </p><p>	Angel above, Sans was tired.</p><p>	So tired.</p><p>	He watched helplessly as his younger brother swept out of the room, cloak trailing behind him. </p><p>	“heh. you’re the best, bro,” Sans murmured in the empty hall, eyesockets devoid of light.</p><p> </p><p>	Sans knew the moment the violent strangers entered the castle. He shuffled to his delegated spot at the far end of the hall, beyond him the throne room. He waited to feel the hum and shatter of the oath that tied him. To feel bittersweet freedom when the Underground became kingless yet again. His brother was the only good thing left in this world. Once he was gone, Sans probably wouldn’t even put up a fight if the strangers decided to lay ruin to the Court. He was best at doing nothing. It didn’t matter that with his brother dead, he’d be the only boss monster left in the Underground. Hilarious, right? The 1HP skeleton the last of the best of them. Destined to live forever, never aging unless he had children. Powerful enough to absorb a human soul without dying. A status inherited from the father most of the Underground forgot when he fell into his creation.</p><p>	He wondered idly if he would have had stats like Papyrus if not for Karma.<br/>
It was possible for boss monsters to beget normal monsters as children. And rarely, a normal monster could become strong enough to actually reach boss status, like Undyne. Perhaps he’d have just been even weaker without the magic that tied him to the Crown. Not that anyone knew of his status anymore—even amongst the dead only Asgore and his father knew he wasn’t the weakest pipsqueak to ever risk death by leaving the house and risking stubbing his toe on a sentient rock.</p><p>	Sans looked up at the sound of footsteps. </p><p>	Standing there was a dark mirror of himself, LV wrapped about him like a cloak, eyelights burning like the butt of a cigarette. Sharp teeth gleamed, a single golden tooth radiant in the glow of the hall. A faded black jacket with yellow trim and a faux fur lined hood swamped his frame, making him look bigger, more dangerous. There was a spiked collar around his cervical vertebrae, literal dog tags clinking against his collarbone. </p><p>“well aint this interestin’,” said the doppleganger. </p><p>Sans didn’t need to CHECK the skeleton to see his stats, the light of the Judgement Hall laying bare all truths. What drew his attention most was likely the very thing that made his dark twin pause. The name and the flavor text.</p><p> </p><p><b>Sans</b><br/>
*The Judge</p><p> </p><p>	A Judge with LV. How was it compatible with Karma? How wasn’t he being eaten alive by his own sins? Sans drew in a breath, distantly aware that Papyrus was indeed still alive, “i’d ask how you got past the guards, but i’m gonna guess you know a few shortcuts.” The other ‘Sans’ ambled closer, only the faint, pinkish sheen on his skull betraying any vulnerability beneath the swaggering facade. </p><p>	“pfft. yer security is shit. buncha rabbits in second-hand armor.” He stopped shy a few paces from Sans. “too easy.”</p><p>	“whaddya want?”</p><p>	The other skeleton tilted his head, the cracks scarring his skull casting deep shadows in the slanting rays of false daylight, “oh, yer know, war and total domination. to eat the dust of my enemies. blah, blah, blah.” He shrugged. “‘cept this place already looks like someone beat us to it.”</p><p>	“amazing what a little determination can do.”</p><p>	Red—the color of his eyelights, quite creative, Asgore worthy levels of naming ingenuity—arched his browbones, “the human kid did this? yer fuckers drew the short straw.” Before Sans could ask what he meant by that, Red continued, “takes half the fun outta timeline hoppin’.”</p><p>	“thanks for proving the multiverse theory by the way. real step forward for science.”</p><p>	“no problem.”</p><p>	A long pause of silence drew between them, neither side moving, their eyelights locked. It was Sans that broke the stalemate, rolling his shoulders and casting his gaze towards the windows, “birds are singing, flowers are blooming...and you don’t belong here.” Red’s grin sharpened, the air charged with the static of building magic. Tipped phalanges slipped from the pockets of the ratty black jacket, scarlet pooling in between joints, collecting in the fine fractures maring greyish bone.</p><p>	“SANS! STAND DOWN!”</p><p>	Both skeletons broke their stare, the charge in the air crackling away with the passing scent of ozone, heads snapping towards the archway. Papyrus stood tall but Sans could see the uncertainty pinching his shoulders, the nervous way he flicked his eyelights to the side. Standing just to his left was his dark copy, all edges and spikes, black-steel armor with a half-cape of crimson, the Delta Rune stitched onto it in gold. The dark Papyrus—Edge, that’s what he’d call him, because that twisted creature was not his brother and he refused to label them with the same name—laid a taloned glove on Papyrus’ shoulder and shoved him into the Judgement Hall.</p><p>	“boss?” There was an unspoken question to Red’s voice.</p><p>Edge strode past Papyrus to stand beside his brother, looming tall above Sans, “SO THIS IS YOUR...COUNTERPART. I AM SURPRISED YOU LEFT HIM ALIVE.” He sounded nothing like Papyrus despite their shared font, the venom and gravel giving his voice an outright hostile quality.</p><p>“tch, with stats like his, it’d be a mercy killin’.”</p><p>“CAN WE PLEASE DIVERT OUR DISCUSSION TO A LESS...MURDERY SUBJECT?” Papyrus moved forward and rather blatantly positioned himself between Sans and their dark twins. There was a rip in his cloak. Sans squinted, cold dread building in his soul. His brother’s massive pool of HP was precariously low, and the longer he scanned his form, there more dents and scratches became obvious. He’d fought. He’d fought and lived. Sans examined Edge, searching his stats, and finding that his brother had left a dent in his HP, but it was a far tilt in the darker skeleton’s advantage. Little wonder given how much LV he possessed—his attack far harsher and his defense significantly sturdier. “YES, YES, THE TREATY!”</p><p>Wait. What? Sans blinked back to attention, his focus on the pair of tall skeletons. Papyrus was chattering on about some peace agreement like he actually knew what he was talking about, and Edge interjected now and then. Red remained quiet. Watchful. Suddenly, those eyelights were back on Sans, calculating.</p><p>“oi boss, i think one of them peace treaties is a good idea.”</p><p>Edge’s arm snapped out and he snagged the collar like it was routine, “DID I ASK FOR YOUR OPINION, WHELP?”</p><p>Red ducked into the fluff of his hood, looking nervous for all of a second, before twisting about in Edge’s grip, smacking away Edge’s hand with an indignant snarl, “no, but yer fuckin’ gettin’ it. part of the whole judge thing.”</p><p>“HOW CONVENIENT OF YOU TO DECIDE NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO DO YOUR JOB.”</p><p>Papyrus glanced between the pair, “OH, SO YOU’RE A JUDGE TOO? BACK IN YOUR...ER, WHEREVER YOU CAME FROM.”</p><p>Edge dropped Red, who straightened his clothes and grinned at Papyrus, “yep. an’ my boss probably already toldja he’s king. meanin’ this is an official meetin’ between two sovereign bodies.” Sans didn’t like the slightly manic quality to his smile, “we’s the ones that yer hafta negotiate wit if yer wanna keep this shithole from becoming a whole lot more dusty.”</p><p>“WATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!”</p><p>“LANGUAGE!”</p><p>“that sounds like a threat.” Everyone looked at Sans, whose eyesockets were black, his permanent smile strained. ”paps, how about you go check on the guard. we need to make sure everyone is prepared in case these two have brought others here.”</p><p>“Sans—”</p><p>“i know they’ve hurt you.”</p><p>“SANS, LISTEN, I KNOW THEY’RE A BIT...DIFFERENT, BUT THEY—”</p><p>A hand gripped the back of Sans’ neck and he found himself half choking, half floundering as long phalanges curled about his vertebrae. The dark Papyrus—Edge, remember, call him Edge—had him scruffed like a cat. Red began to laugh, clearly enjoying how Sans sputtered. Oh Angel, just being this close to all that lv was making him ill. Edge’s magic was cold. Like a bitter winter storm. And it chilled him down to the bone. Heh. “IT SEEMS THIS PATHETIC VERSION OF YOU IS JUST AS INSUBORDINATE.” </p><p>“PUT MY BROTHER DOWN! YOU’LL HURT HIM!”</p><p>Paps, that is probably the point, Sans thought to himself, as he forcibly went limp. He crooked his head so that he could get a good look at Edge, Karma stirring in his system. It was his duty and his curse. It would be so simple just to force an encounter. Then neither of these copies could escape Judgement. His brother would be upset at witnessing an execution, but they were an overt threat to the monarchy (to his brother). But...he shuddered. The fight in him fleeing as soon as it welled to the surface. There was no point. Regardless of whether he stood his ground now or just let them slaughter the rest of the Underground, it would all just Reset someday. He couldn’t remember how or why it happened. All he had were scattered notes and disjointed memories that left him clutching his ribs, screaming awake.</p><p>Pointless. Helpless. Worthless.</p><p>(I couldn’t protect him—written in his font again, and again, and again)</p><p>“DON’T BE DRAMATIC, HE’S FINE,” Edge thrust Sans towards Papyrus, dropping him into his brother’s outstretched arms. “IF I WANTED HIM DEAD, I COULD HAVE DUSTED HIM EASILY. NOW, WE WERE DISCUSSING A TREATY?”</p><p>Sans curled his fingers against Papyrus’ armor, his voice low, “don’t do it. don’t trust them. I know they look like us but—”</p><p>Papyrus hugged Sans tight, silencing him. Dread encompassed his Soul. </p><p>“LET US CONVENE IN THE THRONE ROOM. MY BROTHER...NEEDS TO REST.” To his shock and dismay, Papyrus placed him back on his feet, regret and apology in his eyelights, “Go to your quarters, Sans. I’ll call you when negotiations are done.”</p><p>No. No. NO! That was the most idiotic request to ever come out of his mouth. Every bone in Sans’ body protested. He couldn’t leave Papyrus alone with these skeletons. But the Judge obeyed its King. He turned his back to the scene and slipped out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>Sans knew something was amiss the moment Papyrus entered his room. </p><p>The hours passed by in pained silence, the elder brother unable to sleep, waiting for that moment when the bond shattered and he was freed from his orders. But it never came. He wasn’t sure if his brother being alive was a good sign or not (what a horrible little monster he was, considering that a better outcome might be his brother’s death). He scanned Papyrus’ skull, cutting a pale figure in the haggard dark, searching for an answer. All he found was regret. Guilt. Shame.</p><p>“what did you do, bro?”</p><p>	Papyrus gripped the doorframe, nudging an abandoned sock with the toe of his boot, “N-nothing yet.” But he was considering something. What kind of terrible, wretched thing did his dark reflection ask of him? If he demanded the crown, he doubted Papyrus would be looking at him this way, like a lost little boy. Sans sighed, and shifted so that he sat on the edge of the bed, arms held open. Papyrus rushed into his embrace and for long, countless minutes, they simply clung to one another. “They explained how they came here, brother. It...none of it made much sense. It was all kinds of time-space shenanigans that you would have understood better. Something about...collapsing the boundary between our universes in a search for...resources.”</p><p>	He shifted, “They never said it outright, but...I think they’re looking for human souls.”</p><p>	“why do you think that?” Sans cursed his brother’s impulsiveness, but his already aching Soul couldn’t muster the energy required to be angry. </p><p>	“...just...a feeling.”</p><p>	“well we aint got no human souls. they up and vanished when the human left..”</p><p>“I KNOW THAT!” Papyrus clutched Sans tighter, “But they agreed to a peace despite us not having the resources they were looking for. Nobody will be hurt. They swear.”</p><p>Sans nudged his brother back to look at his face, “just like that?”</p><p>Papyrus averted his gaze, “J-just like that.”</p><p>“Paps…”</p><p>The taller skeleton hopped up, forcing a grin on his skull, eyelights dull, “I...I have to do what’s best for my people. I believe these skeletons are good monsters deep down. They’ll keep their word once the treaty is signed.”</p><p>“paps,” Sans’ voice deepened with suspicion as he stood.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>And with that, Papyrus fled the room, leaving Sans alone with his thoughts and the ever deepening despair weighing him down.</p><p> </p><p>With morning came the toll of bells and a knock at his door. It was a trembling bunny maid, who tugged at her ear as she informed Sans that he was expected in the throne room. Sans, still dressed in the same clothes as the night before, rolled out of bed into a heap on the floor, before slowly, robotically, shambling out the door. He didn’t sleep a wink. His mind awash with torturous scenarios. When he arrived in the throne room, Sans found his doppelganger slumped against a wall, as if asleep, looking dead to the world, only the glint of ruby skittering in the shadows of a socket betraying his consciousness. At the center of the room, amongst the flowers, Edge and Papyrus were shaking hands.</p><p>“YOU HAVE MY WORD AS A KING,” Edge boomed, but the relief in Papyrus’ posture was marginal. The dark skeleton flicked his sights to Sans and then back to Papyrus, “As well as my word as a fellow Papyrus.” At that, his younger brother seemed to regain some of the steel in his spine and straightened, looking far less trodden. </p><p>“WELL THEN, I SUPPOSE YOU WILL WANT TO RETURN TO YOUR...WORLD POSTHASTE?”</p><p>“INDEED. ALL THERE REMAINS IS THE SMALL MATTER OF THE OATH.”</p><p>“RIGHT! SANS, COME HERE PLEASE.”</p><p>Sans shuffled to Papyrus’ side, not liking this scene one bit. There was something amiss and nobody was sharing the details with him. And given that his job these days included a great deal of knowing anything and everything so that the Underground didn’t fall apart around Papyrus’ head, being out of the loop was dangerous. “don’t mean to ask a skele-ton of questions but, why wasn’t i invited to this whole treaty party?” Hard to be an advisor if someone didn’t let you in the room to advise. “part of my duties is to review agreements like this.” It was hard to keep his voice low and casual, like he wasn’t having a paranoid fit on the inside. </p><p>Papyrus shifted, again anxious, “IT’S...COMPLICATED.”</p><p>“s’all right. i mean i’ve a phd in complicated.”</p><p>“I THOUGHT YOUR DEGREE WAS IN THEORETICAL PHYSICS?”</p><p>From the wall, Red snorted, “well aint yer a smart cookie.”</p><p>Edge pinched his browbones and waved away his brother’s comment, “YES, YES. THIS IS ALL VERY INTERESTING, BUT I WOULD LIKE TO DEPART FROM THIS UNIVERSE PROMPTLY. SO FOCUS, PLEASE.”</p><p>“awe, lookit yer, sayin’ please and shit.”</p><p>“SOME OF US HAVE MANNERS, WHELP!”</p><p>“i don’t want my brother signing any treaty without me looking it over first.” The room fell silent as everyone glanced at Sans. Papyrus rubbed the back of his skull. Red smirked. And Edge was utterly impassive. </p><p>“‘fraid it’s a done deal, sansy. overseen by a judge as is proper. cuz you aint the only one in this castle with that title.”</p><p>“He’s...right, brother. I’ve already signed the contract. It took much of the night but we came to an agreement early this morning. All that is left is a formal vow.” Spoken vows weren’t part of peace treaties. Was Papyrus stepping down as King? No, if that was the case then these two wouldn’t be so eager to galavant back to their own timeline. Papyrus cleared his throat, his eyelights soft and sad, haunted with a grim maturity that threatened to consume him since his coronation. “I’m doing what needs to be done. For the good of the Underground. Like I swore I would do when I accepted the crown.”</p><p>“Paps.”</p><p>He faced Edge, holding a hand over his chest, above where his Soul rested beneath dented armor, “I, KING PAPYRUS, IN GOOD FAITH AND SOUND MIND, SWEAR PRINCE SANS TO KING...PAPYRUS...IN EXCHANGE FOR PEACE BETWEEN OUR NATIONS. MY WORD IS HIS BOND, AND I PROMISE HIS LOYALTY TO YOU AS LONG AS NO HARM COMES TO HIM OR MINE.” </p><p>It was like learning he was Judge all over again, but worse. Sans stared with quivering eyelights, “you’re letting them take me hostage. papyrus, do you even have the slightest idea what you’ve—”</p><p>“SILENCE!” Edge commanded, the invisible chains of shifted fealty wrapping about his throat. “YOU’RE NOT A HOSTAGE. I’VE NO NEED FOR A JUDGE AS MY PRISONER.” Sans choked on the ancient magic, in complete disbelief. This was not supposed to happen. He was loyal to the throne. He shouldn’t be able to be bound to anyone but presiding monarch! Except...Edge was the King from his universe. He wore the Delta Rune same as Papyrus. The Judge didn’t seem to care that he was from a different time and place, or that their Judge was quite alive! “IN FACT, I’VE NO USE FOR A JUDGE AT ALL. YOU’RE COMING WITH US AS A PRINCE.”</p><p>Prince was a less wanted title than judge. Being heir meant little when Sans had no plans of ever ascending the throne. Should something have happened to Papyrus, it was likely he would have abdicated and found some nice hole to crawl into as he waited for a reset...wait...reset. Why was he bothering to protest? There would be a reset and everything would be back to normal. All of this a bad, half-forgotten memory.</p><p>“how’s being a royal hostage any different, edgelord?”</p><p>“Sans, don’t be rude!” Papyrus admonished. “AND YOU’RE NOT A HOSTAGE AT ALL. YOU’RE...ER...WELL..PART OF THE NEGOTIATIONS…”</p><p>“what his majesty creampuff is tryin’ to say is that yer comin’ wit us is all part of royal traditions. gives boths sides incentive to hold up their end of a treaty, as well as us a reason to leave yer world of free exp in one piece.” All laziness and saunter, Red made his way over to the group. His golden tooth flashed, “to put it simple, he married yer off.” He thumbed towards Edge, and Sans’ nonexistent stomach dropped. This was too many levels of wrong. Beyond wrong. This was cross universal incest—was that a thing? Even if it wasn’t, Edge looked like his brother. The pointed teeth and scars made him different, but only enough that they weren’t identical twins. For Angel’s sake, why did nobody else seem to have a problem with this? Just because royal boss monsters of yore had a habit of mating fellow boss monsters (sometimes limited to family as they were), didn’t mean this was anything but six kinds of a bad idea.</p><p>The bind of Edge’s order lifted, allowing Sans to spit out, “no.”</p><p>“cute yer think yer got a say, sansy.”</p><p>“don’t call me that, pal.”</p><p>“yer got a lil bit o’ fight in yer, eh? good.”</p><p>The pair were squared off when large hands moved close. Sans lurched out of the way, dodging the grab. He wasn’t about to be manhandled by this brute again. “STAND STILL, SANS. YOU’D BE BEST SERVED LEARNING YOUR PLACE BEFORE WE GO BACK HOME.” He hated the compulsion that pinned him down, made him an easy target for Edge to pluck up. “YOU NEED A COLLAR…” A what? He watched Red hook a finger on the band about his own throat and wink. Red’s smile widened slow and his eyelids lowered. Eh? Sans’ eyelights guttered out. No. He could not be reading the context right. His ‘guessing’ skills were thrown off by this whole ridiculous affair. </p><p>“Y-YOU TAKE GOOD CARE OF MY BROTHER.” There was a waver in Papyrus’ voice, a hesitation to his normally exuberant posture. </p><p>“AS I’VE ALREADY STATED, YOUR KINGDOM IS NOW IN ALLIANCE WITH MINE, AND WILL REMAIN SUCH AS LONG AS ALL SIDES HONOR THE TREATY.” Edge tucked Sans against his chest like the smaller monster had consented to be held in his arms like a doll. “NOW, I’VE BEEN AWAY FROM HOME TOO LONG. I BELIEVE IT IS TIME TO RETURN SO MY BETROTHED MAY ACCLIMATE BEFORE OUR UNION. MY CULTURE IS QUITE...DIFFERENT FROM YOURS.” This was not...he wouldn’t just...A new wave of panic crept in and his magic swelled, the roar of a half-familiar song pulsing in his skull, straight out of his worst nightmares. </p><p>Corruption. Exp. LV. </p><p>His stats didn’t matter. Karma made the guilty suffer for their sins. It would be so easy for him to fill the room with dust with just a single, well-timed attack…</p><p>Pain.</p><p>It lanced through him like a power surge, his magic recoiling inwards, abusing delicate mana lines and shorting out the desire to demolish these insurgents. His skull throbbed and then all went dark. </p><p>Sans’ last thought was the terrifying recollection that the Judge couldn’t overthrow its King.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Brothers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“yer one dumb fucker, yer know that?”</p><p>	Awareness came paired with the thick drawl of his dark counterpart. Sans cracked open an eyesocket to see Red looming, looking smaller but no less threatening without his jacket. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his aching skull, the stench of smoke curling through his sinuses. Red huffed and flicked a cigarette butt to the floor, stepping on it. Sans blinked. Barren stone conflicted with resplendent crimson and gold—rugs and tapestries depicting the graphic gore of a war lost, brazen across cold rock. He himself laid in an opulent bed, ‘fit for a king’ one could say. Sans hated it.</p><p>	“yo, yer awake or just sleepin’ wit yer eyes open, pal?” Red snapped his phalanges at Sans, ripping his attention back to his dark twin’s face. Sharp teeth twisted into a sneer, “now that i got sleepin’ beauty’s attention…” PING. Fuck. Cold magic caged Sans’ soul, shoving down like an anchor into a fathomless abyss, as deep and dark as the void itself. “lemme make one thing clear, step outta line, and it aint yer who’s gonna pay fer yer fuck ups. it’s that creampuff yer call brother and yer wannabe dustball of a timeline.  this is yer home now, and if yer half as smart as that degree of yours make yer to be, then yer will do what yer are told. if my brother says shut up and shank a guy, yer do it. if i say smile and look pretty, yer best do it as fast as possible. quicker yer learn, quicker we can all get along. understand, dollface?”</p><p>	Sans sagged against the pillows as the spell fell from his soul, letting him breathe properly. He rubbed his chest and just stared at Red, who now had one knee on the mattress and one hand by Sans’ shoulder.</p><p>	The other skeleton gave a sigh, as if he hadn’t just accosted him,  “yer’ll learn. prolly the hard way if yer anythin’ like me.” He leaned forward, reaching towards Sans’ neck. Sans lurched away, but a few seconds later, the other skeleton took advantage of his groggy state and grabbed...something? His eyelights guttered out. Red snickered as he tugged on the new accessory wrapped about Sans’ cervical vertebrae. “quicker yer accept yer lot, happier yer will be. cuz me and boss can be real good to yer...if yer let us.”</p><p>	That tone. Sans didn’t like it. His twin pulled their skulls closer with the collar, and all Sans could think to do was sneer, “what are you, some kind of narcissist? or do you just want to toy with the merchandise before it’s off the market and hitched to your brother? either way, not my fetish, pal. so back off.”</p><p>	Red snorted, scoffed and then belted out in laughter. Oh Angel, those teeth were way too close to his face for comfort. Was he born with those weapons in his mouth or did he shape them with a file?</p><p>	“WHAT IS WITH ALL THE RACKET?” Both Sanses looked at the doorway where Edge loomed, no less daunting without his armor. He was...shorter than Papyrus. In his plainclothes of sleeveless black and trousers, it was more obvious that his bones were thicker, but in a way that suggested repeated breaks and scarring. There was nothing pristine or delicate or smooth about him. In fact, saying that he looked like someone took a sledgehammer to his bones and then decided to let a preschooler glue them back together was generous. Edge crossed his arms and snapped, “WELL!”</p><p>	“jus’ explaining the ground rules to your piece-of-fluff fiance,” replied Red with a shrug, pulling on the collar. Sans tried to slap his hands away. Shouldn’t Edge be somewhat offended by this? He was standing there, watching his supposed betrothed being manhandled by his half-dressed brother. </p><p>	“you forgot the part where you started gettin’ up close and personal, buddy.”</p><p>	Red snickered and kept his eyes on Edge, outright straddling Sans, phalanges wrapped tight around the collar. He gave it a meaningful tug, “boss don’t mind, do ya, yer majesty?” Edge’s expression was inscrutable. “nah, y’see, sansy, in this world, it’s kill-or-be-killed. and family is a rare thing. monsters yer can trust are even rarer. precious, yer might say. we share ever’thin’, cuz secrets leave yer dead. and ever’thin’ now includes yer. he wouldn’t have even considered that little peace treaty your creampuff brother suggested if not fer me vouchin’ fer ya.” Those crimson eyelights went a little fuzzy as he bent closer, their mandibles almost touching. “lucky fer yer, we like the thought of keepin’ karma in the family, and who better to help test that little theory than another me?”</p><p>	Sans went shock still and Red took advantage, outright licking the side of his skull with a long lap of a summoned tongue.</p><p>	“hm. ‘course the first kid should be boss’. not that folks would question nuthin’ if it looked a lil too much like me, wit’cha well, lookin’ the way yer do.”</p><p>	The threat finally processed, “kid?”</p><p>	“why else does a king go an’ marry? treaties aint no good if there’s no spawn involved to keep both sides honest, and a royal without an heir has a short lived dynasty. last guy learned that lesson the hard way.” Red kept touching, Edge still not interfering. Stationary. Silent. The only sign of him being affected was the slight glow hinting at between exposed joints. Was he getting off on this? On Sans being manhandled by his brother?</p><p>Sans threw a hand between them, shoving at Red’s skull, wincing as that tongue wrapped around a phalange. Okay, gross. “the kid kill your asgore too?” Red ceased his harassment just long enough to start laughing. </p><p>“pfft, that pipsqueak? couldn’t hurt a fuckin’ moldsmol.”</p><p>“then how?” his eyelights flickered to Edge, hoping if he kept talking, they’d get distracted and stop...whatever this was. Red tilted Sans’ skull so that he was forced to look him dead in the sockets.</p><p>“let’s just say they made an offer we’d be stupid to refuse.”</p><p>“they took the human souls,” Sans said, hoping his brother’s assumptions were correct.</p><p>Red huffed, “we both know why that wasn’t a big loss.”</p><p>Because one human was stronger than a thousand monsters. A kid could obliterate the underground. With seven souls, a single boss monster could become strong enough to break the barrier, but in the face of millions of humans and their devices, it wouldn’t be enough should war be declared again. The Judge understood in an instant why Red wasn’t too eager to get to the surface. Why he might even be content interfering. If all monsters were as violent and LV packed as these two, then there wouldn’t be a peaceful introduction to humans. Just a fight they’d no doubt lose. A slaughter.</p><p>“then what’s with the universe hoppin’?”</p><p>“i know what yer tryin’ to do, dollface,” Red pushed up, leaving Sans alone on the bed. They were the same skeleton, after all, in many respects. The fact Red could read him so easy, realize he was trying to talk his way into an advantage, just came with the territory. “jus’ remember what i said. be good, and we’ll be good to yer.” </p><p>“YOU DONE? THERE ARE ARRANGEMENTS TO MAKE AND I CANNOT BE DISTRACTED BY TOMFOOLERY.”</p><p>Red winked, clicking his teeth, “yeah, m’done boss. fer now. still suggestin’ keepin’ yer pet on a short leash until yer house train him.”</p><p>Sans couldn’t help it, he wasn’t anyone’s pet, “fuck you.”</p><p>“toldja, first kid’s boss’.” Red waved him off, “but thanks fer the invitation, sansy. good to know we’re on the same page.”</p><p>Sans shuddered as Red sauntered away, slipping through the doorway with that static hum Sans had come to associate with short cutting. Which left him alone with Edge. “so uh, heh, your bro was, ah, kid-ing about about the whole, er, heir thing...right? since last i checked, both monsters have to actively want a kid for a new souling to form. and, tiba honest, i’m not—” </p><p>Edge scoffed and gave Sans a look that made him feel smaller than bug guts squished under a heeled boot, “I BELIEVE YOU’LL FIND THERE ARE TWO PATHS IN THIS LIFE FOR YOU, JUDGE. ONE WHERE YOU TAKE MY BROTHER’S ADVICE AND ACCEPT YOUR NEW LOT, AND TELL YOURSELF WHATEVER LIES YOU REQUIRE TO COME TO TERMS WITH YOUR STATUS. AND ANOTHER WHERE YOU FIGHT UNTIL YOU ARE INEVITABLY CRUSHED BY THE REPERCUSSIONS, BEREFT OF ANY REMAINING AGENCY YOU CURRENTLY POSSESS.”</p><p>The smaller skeleton shifted so that he could roll out of the bed, standing at last. He didn’t like the ominous implication weighing his words. Magic swelled in his left socket, habit laying bare the sins of this dark monster.</p><p> </p><p><b>Papyrus</b><br/>*Your King. He doesn’t make idle threats.</p><p> </p><p>	“my bro would tell you i’m pretty bad at following orders. kinda too lazy to pay attention.”</p><p>	Edge scoffed, taking long steps forward. He loomed like death himself, those cracks and scars ever more evident as he bent over Sans. “Two paths, Judge. Unless you wish to be the responsible party for the peace treaty falling apart. I’m sure your brother’s dust in a jar would make further negotiations quite simple. Understand?” There was knowing in his sockets. That for all the fucked up shit this world apparently had to offer, he understood was made his brother tick. And in turn, had the Sans Handbook ver. Perpetual Edgy Teenager edition. He knew how important he was to Red. Knew what Red would do for him or do if he died. Sans doubted they were the same things he himself would do, but...close enough, right?</p><p>	“...yeah.”</p><p>	“Good. Now, for the next couple days, you will stay in these chambers as I finish preparations for our union. You will not leave the castle at any point without myself or my brother as an escort, though I doubt there will be a reason for you to step foot in hotlands or beyond. A monster with stats like yours would draw unwanted attention and hostility. Behave, and you will be rewarded. My objective is not your misery, Sans. Contentment or even apathy will serve you well in place of wallowing in guilt or shame or anger. Act out and I will have to take measures to protect you from your own idiocy.” A polite way of saying he’d trap Sans with an unbreakable order. Some ‘suggestions’ could be shaken off, but others were as binding as the Delta Rune’s Oath itself. Edge folded his arms behind his back, “And despite what my brother might lead you to believe, he isn’t about to touch your soul without your permission.”</p><p>	Sans snorted, “just you?”</p><p>	“If it helps you accept your situation to frame it in such a manner, then yes. Paint me the villian,” he made a sweeping gesture towards the bed. Sans fought down a wince. “But he was not lying in that we share everything. You’ll find no jealousy on my end when you bed him.”</p><p>	“why the fuck would I do that? he is literally me.” Edge spoke as if Red and Sans sleeping together was inevitable. Like Sans would dive into the deep end and decide that he always wanted to fool around with his evil clone. </p><p>	Edge tilted his chin up, his features sharp and slanted in the dim lighting, the picture of haughty royalty that won his throne through war and conquest who was looking down upon a particularly dim peasant. “There are always certain freedoms allowed to those who’ve earned the favor of their betters.” A slim, gloved hand slipped beneath Sans’ mandible, “Many a freezing monster would kill to soak in the warmth of a fire, and it is to that fire’s advantage to have someone keeping it fueled and sheltered.” Cold magic crept over him. Reminding Sans of their stark difference in EXP and LV. The hand pulled away. “I will leave you for the time being to think.” Edge practically glided to the door, glancing back one last time, “And before you hurt yourself attempting escape...stay in this room and do not try to harm yourself. You are not permitted to Fall Down.That is an order.”</p><p>	He didn’t bother shutting the door all the way.</p><p>	Knowing his command held true.</p><p> </p><p>	The first day passed in isolation. Sans wished he could say he was the proactive sort, willing to fight his way free to save himself. No. He sat in a chair and stared at the wall instead of trying to challenge the oath’s bind. Neither Red nor Edge came. At some point, he fell asleep, his dreams haunted by golden halls painted with dust, his brother’s scarf as stark as blood on the marble floor.</p><p> </p><p>	The second day passed the same. He was hungry. Were they planning to starve him? Monsters could go weeks without food if they didn’t squander their magic, and Sans had a naturally vast pool at his disposal. The other him likely knew exactly how long Sans could go without a meal before simple discomfort became a risk. His soul beat a little faster at the prospect. For a few minutes, he was angry, resentment burning hot against his brother, but it sputtered out like a candle in a gale. He wasn’t sure if he could have gotten out of this situation if Papyrus had let him try. Because, Angel damn him, if it meant protecting Paps from a war they’d lose, he would have sacrificed anything, even his own life. Turns out the ceiling was less interesting than the wall.</p><p> </p><p>	On the third day, Red appeared with a tray. A meager fare of what looked to be fries slathered in mustard. Sans blinked at the other skeleton, haggard despite having spent the better part of the past few days asleep. All of his rest was shallow, interspersed with mindless bouts of tracing cracks in stone with his eyelights. Red walked through the door and set the tray on the bed, meandering back over to Sans with both hands tucked away into the pockets of his ratty black jacket. “sup sansy. yer lookin’ a lil tired and bonely. how ‘bout yer get up and have a bite to eat, an’ put some meat on them bones.” Sans looked away. Red’s sneakers squeaked. Suddenly, the chair tipped and Sans was on his back, staring up at that sneering skull. </p><p>“whoops.”</p><p>	Sans didn’t have the energy or the interest to snap back with any snark. Counting stones for days on end was an exhausting task. He could just lay here and nap until Red bored of whatever mind game he had planned, because he wasn’t playing. His sockets slipped shut and he remained limp on the floor, content to stay there, but of course, mister evil clone wouldn’t leave him alone as he had the past few days. No, instead he prodded Sans with a sneaker before snatching his hood, forcing Sans to sit up, “said chow time.”</p><p>	“...kay…” </p><p>	“tch. a couple days of isolation and yer ready to break? nah, yer wuz broken before, weren’t yer?”</p><p>“there a point to this? i have an appointment with the back of my eyelids.”</p><p>“there we go. aint no fun if yer toothless.”</p><p>“good to know my hobbies in an alternate dimension likely include mugging grannies and shoving kittens up trees.” Sans didn’t like to consider that Red might be into torturing helpless victims. He certainly didn’t seem to have any qualms about a little solitary confinement paired with hunger. Red chuckled. It was a dark sound, like flirting with the Void whilst dancing with a knife-wielding devil.</p><p>“we need to have a lil chat. so eat up. it’s an order from mister high and mighty himself.” Sans felt an uncomfortable twinge across his shoulder blades; his thoughts stirring the Deltarune. He didn’t have to eat. He didn’t have to do a thing Red said. But regardless, he sat up, half-heartedly picking at the fries when Red shoved them at him. “last i checked we don’t absorb meals through osmosis.”</p><p>“you got a food kink or something,” Sans snapped back, earning a flicker of bright interest in those eerie eyelights. He decided to smother that unwanted train of thought with the sour taste of mustard. Bleh. After choking down half the basket, he dared to look at his alternate again. That stare. Angel, he understood why Undyne called him creepy once. </p><p>“damn boss is a lucky bastard.”</p><p>“riveting.”</p><p>Red clicked his teeth and leaned a little too casually against the bed, “just in case yer wuz gettin’ cold feet, the bonding ceremony is tomorrow. i told him to just leave yer be until the weddin’, let yer get soft and cold and lonely, but no, he decided to have mercy. aint that sweet?” His smile was razorblades and venom. They both knew he wasn’t wrong in his assumptions. Left alone for long enough then ‘rescued’ by his brother, even a violent copy of him, would have warmed his stupid, desperate soul. “if yer wuz smart, yer’d show ‘im how thankful yer are...but yer me. and we established we aint smart enough to do shit the easy way."</p><p>"...i won't cause trouble, if that's what you're worried about."  </p><p>“i’d be a fool to believe that, but if yer pretend that aint a lie fer long enough, yer might just get along fine and dandy.”</p><p>“why are you here?”</p><p>Sneakers squeaked with Red’s approach, “toldja. a chat. we’re bout to be family and all that shit.”</p><p>“...look, you don’t need to threaten to dust my universe for my compliance. i’m here and oathbound. your brother’s word is my...is my vow.”</p><p>“wanna try sayin’ that again to choke on it proper?” Sans only had the energy to flip him the bird, which he regretted immediately, those burning eyelights sharpening. “you and yer invitations, pal. guy might think yer lookin’ fer a good time.” He laughed. “nah, i know you’ll be a good little judge and obey orders. yer don’t have a choice. but here’s the thing...nobody is gonna be happy if yer gotta be compelled to do everything by the rune. sure, fight it. push back. keep your spark. but remember, he’s still a papyrus, different from yours he may be.”</p><p>"oh, and what do you know about papyruses that is so universal?" Edge was nothing like his brother. Nothing! </p><p>"wouldn't yer like to know?"</p><p>"tiba-honest, not really. i'll pass."</p><p>"tsk. such a shame. thought yer might have half a brain cell."</p><p>"what can i say, i'm a real bonehead."</p><p>Red grunted and, continuing his hands on approach, scruffed Sans, situating them both on the bed. His phalanges remained at Sans' throat, curled loosely around the annoying band strapped there, unable to be removed. "so about that chat,” the reek of stale smoke clinging to leather enveloped Sans, his body shivering in response to that dreadful, icy LV. “yer gettin’ hitched to my bro tomorrow. and yer should know as well as anyone what image means to a king. here, in our world, a little scrap like yer don’t last long without somebody crushin’ yer to dust. so here is what yer gonna go. yer gonna do what yer told, smile and look pretty and wave to the adorin’ public, and then forget what the outside world looks like.”</p><p>	“we’ve already established i’m a hostage. prisoners don’t usually go wandering around town.”</p><p>	“naw, if yer wuz a prisoner, boss wouldn’t have no problems wit takin’ yer out on the town where some rando with a justice boner fer the old king might squeeze your pretty little neck until your head popped off.” What a delightful image. “yer will be the king’s husband. carrier of the throne’s future heirs. lettin’ yer outta the castle would make him look weak. nah, yer place is out of sight unless on the king’s arm. always in support of him when he dares let the public see yer face. course we can’t trust yer to act proper until yer prove yer loyalty...so if yer wanna see any walls outside of these...i’d be gettin’ on makin’ an heir quick.”</p><p>	Sans couldn’t help it, he wrinkled his nasal bone, “right, i get it. i’m your brother’s shiny new fuck toy, so lay on my back and smile when he wants to get his dick wet. you can get off and stop with the speech, pal.”</p><p>	There was an odd look on Red’s face and he didn’t trust it. He tightened his grip, cutting into the manalines running along his cervical vertebrae, choking him. Oxygen was handy-dandy to maintaining proper magic flow. He wouldn’t suffocate, lack of lungs and all that, but it was mighty uncomfortable and made focusing his magic terribly difficult. Sans reflexively closed a hand around Red’s wrist, an instinctive, silent bid to let him breathe. Red’s grin was predatory in the worst way. Not like he wanted to jump Sans’ bones, but like he wanted to carve his name in Sans’ eyesocket with a dull knife.</p><p>	“yer can do better than that sansy,” he murmured. “my bro deserves better.”</p><p>	Sans sucked in a long, ragged breath when his twin released his grip, wondering what kind of next level hell he was in and how he came to deserve this fate. He looked away. Giving up was his go to. He was good at that. “it’s an arranged marriage and i’ve been repeatedly threatened by the both of you,” Sans grumbled. “give a guy a break, will ya? i’m not stupid. i’m not going to risk the truce by ruining your brother’s image, or running off.”</p><p>	“yer can do even better by not makin’ ‘im use the rune on yer. i’ve told ‘im what it does. how it feels. he’s no saint, but he’s not the devil incarnate.” It wasn’t the judge in Sans that heard it. But the Sans in Sans. Red was doing his damndest to protect Edge from himself. He’d do what he believed was best, turn Sans’ happiness and autonomy into a casualty of his reign, but it would break his chipped and worn soul even more. Harden a heart that likely once as gentle as his own Papyrus’. Fucked up way of doing it, but there was logic within the madness. A dog-eat-dog, tooth-and-claw desperation to survive. To endure. If Sans didn’t make himself a fast ally and asset, Edge would need to put Sans into a position of at least not being a liability. A threat. </p><p>	His thoughts traveled to the dark skeleton’s commentary about freezing monster’s and fire. How it would benefit Sans to be that fire. To warm the—shudder—beds of the monsters closest to him with the power to grant him protection and freedom. Giving Edge an heir willingly would build up his trust. Becoming Edge’s lover would gain Red’s. And becoming Red’s lover? Sans shoved that thought into the far corners of his mind. He wouldn’t think about that now. It probably would never happen.</p><p>	“now yer catchin’ on,” Red murmured. He straddled Sans’ lap like he belonged there. “heh. let’s see if yer are jus’ a little less stupid than yer wuz a few minutes ago. gimmie a kiss.”</p><p>	Sans tensed. Contemplated telling him to fuck right off. But he knew a test when he saw it, and failing here probably would be uncomfortable to say the least. “m’savin’ m’self for marriage,” he deadpanned. “havin’ my first kiss on my wedding day was a childhood dream of mine.”</p><p>	“liar.”</p><p>	“huh. well what do ya know, i am.”</p><p>	“tick tock, sansy.”</p><p>	“you’re an ass,” Sans drawled before grabbing the back of Red’s skull and dragging him into a short, passionless kiss. “happy?”</p><p>	“could be if yer wuz a lil more creative with that tongue you keep waggin’ around.”</p><p>	“not gonna happen.”</p><p>	“a guy can hope,” Red sighed and leaned back. Still on Sans’ lap, which was unfortunate, because the stupid thing about stress and magic is that the former makes the later all twitchy and reactive. At least Sans could tell himself if he popped a stiffy it’d be a hate boner for a guy that was maybe (probably) boning his own brother. Yep. 100%. No questions asked or doubts had. Now if only he could shake the image from his skull of Red pulling on his collar and offering a salacious grin. Red patted the side of Sans’ face before crawling off and standing, “glad we had this chat. hope this means we don’t have no trouble tomorrow.”</p><p>	Sans could only shake his head as the other skeleton left the room, leaving him with humming mana lines and an odd, wrenching emotion in the pit of his figurative stomach. </p><p>	He was getting married.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Wedding</h2></a>
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    <p>The ceremony was a spartan but grand all at the same time.</p><p>Sans’ morning started when he was bossed around by a maid into a bath with a schedule to keep. He was sluggish from poor sleep and the fact that he’d only eaten a handful of fries over the past few days, but she had little patience for dragging feet and had the audacity to start stripping him the moment his slippers touched tile. Knowing when he was losing a fight, he hurried into a tub large enough for Asgore to soak in, the water already filled halfway up and smelling of vanilla. After having his poor bones scrubbed down, she dressed him in robes of white and gold, the styling somehow both masculine and effeminate, cut to allude to shoulders Sans didn’t have, yet flowing, the hem dragging the floor like a (wedding) gown. The overlong cape and false armor in the form of decorative pauldrons only added to the image. As a whole, when he caught his reflection in a mirror when marched down a hallway, he had a strangely ethereal appearance, an adrogenous, skeletal angel set for battle, like from those Surface stories that sometimes ended up in the dump. </p><p>	When the servant ceased to shepard him, he stood before a dark, opulent door with the Detalrune carved at the peak of the arched frame. She bowed and two heavily armored royal guards shifted to open said door with a silent nod. Sans walked through, pace little more than a languid amble, his posture forcibly slouched, hands searching for nonexistent pockets. He settled for crushing the fine fabric in clammy palms. Heh. How ironic. He was all bones but he could sweat like a schoolboy going on his first date. (Or more accurately, one that got a note that said ‘meet me after class by the flagpole or else’...and knew regardless he was going to get pummeled and shoved into a locker at the most convenient opportunity.) If he idled too long, would his groom drag him up the aisle? Would a guard escort him to their king’s side at sword point? Would the king merely give a soft spoken order that he would be helpless to deny?</p><p>	There was no music, no flowers, just a long, crimson rug splitting the gilded room in half. The further he walked, the more he realized his location. He felt the Judge within him stir, for this was where it belonged. Pale stone columns were painted black, true color shoddily obscured, the marble tiles scratched and dulled with neglect, and the windows that should let in light? They were covered in dark curtains, only the barest, slanting beams allowed to cast their glow. At the far end of the hall, his groom awaited in formal armor, back to him, looking to the world like some ghastly knight from a Hallows Eve tale. Black-on-black with the only reprieve the Deltarune stitched into his cloak and the fearsome gold crown upon his skull.</p><p>	Sans swallowed then pressed onward, eyelights fixed on Edge’s back, nothing in this desecrated hall a comfort. Corrupted. All of it. From king to country. The only anchor amid the uncertainty was the one that threw him into the riotous sea. No hand outstretched, leaving Sans with the option to throw himself at his mercy or drown. If it was just Sans alone affected, he’d choose to submit to the proverbial waves crashing over his head. But the fate of others relied on Sans’ submission. A bitter wine indeed.</p><p>	As he drew beside his groom, Edge offered his hands, palms bare as Sans’ own. Every monster in the Underground knew how marriages worked. They had children books romanticizing the ceremony, with a single message made clear: touching souls was for grownups who were very much in love only. Sans laid his hands lightly on Edge’s. He didn’t love this monster. Not only did he not love him, but to protect his brother, who he would probably never see again, he was going to touch souls with him. Unite them mind, body and spirit. Then figure out someway to convince himself that he wanted a child to come of what happened next.</p><p>	“It is time,” Edge said and Sans forced his skull up to look at his groom’s scarred face. They were alone and it would seem it would stay that way. In the children’s books, there would be a gathering of loved ones as vows were spoken, palms pressed together, eyes locked. Then the two monsters would promise themselves to each other before exiting to a more private room together, or the guests would file away. At which point the couple would bring forth their souls and share their love and hope and dreams. It was saccharine and sacred and Sans never wanted it until now. A stupid, simpering lovesick ceremony would be immensely more enjoyable than this. Edge sighed, as if apologetic, but he did not retreat. He instead began his vows. Sans recognized them. He’d read those same words when researching the nuances of kingship and court for Papyrus.</p><p>	There were passages about protection and duty, fealty and honesty. It was all very proper, by the book and exactly how he imagined Papyrus would make his vows when the day came that he wed. Except with more enthusiasm. For all his creative interpretation of the rules, he was often a stickler for them. And if the book said these were the words a king said when getting married, then by the Angel, he’d say them with a smile. Why did his sockets feel damp? Sans blinked and dipped his head, unable to look at his groom’s impassive visage. He shouldn’t—didn’t—care. Not a bit. He felt nothing except apathy. Certainly not grief or regret or sadness (or betrayal). </p><p>	“And if you can find the capacity to love me and our children in your soul, then I will seek to offer you the same. This I swear.”</p><p>	Sans stiffened. That line wasn’t from the script. </p><p>	“Sans, do you accept my oath?”</p><p>	“...yes.”</p><p>	Edge shifted their hands so that their flattened palms were upright, phalanges interlaced. It was time for Sans to offer his own vows. He was certain Edge expected nothing but the barest of oaths. If so, he was right. Sans was lazy on a good day.</p><p>	“i...i promise to...to honor you as my king and lord husband,” Sans choked out. “And...and to love our children...and to not...close my soul to the possibility of...of loving you.” Oh that didn’t settle right in his nonexistent gut, as he didn’t like promises in general, much less those about future affections for a conquering king. But he would keep his deal. He didn’t need to be compelled by the Deltarune.</p><p>Edge squeezed his hand, “I accept your oath.”</p><p>And just like that, they were married. All that was left was the soul exchange...but it didn’t happen. Edge merely bent closer and kissed the crown of Sans’ skull. “Come, it is time for your coronation. We will present you to your people, and then you will be returned to your rooms.”</p><p>Sans could only nod, still unwilling to look at him, “yes, m’lord.”</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the day was a blur. Sans hated every moment of ceremony and the moment he was presented before the people of this universe, his bones itched with the urgent need to escape. So much LV. Murderers. Corruption. The judge despaired. Edge fortunately didn’t allow for his precious prince consort to be gawked at by the populous too long. Instead he announced his marriage, allowed them to cheer his name, then swept them both inside the dark halls once more. It was anticlimactic. Nothing like the fairytales. Not that he ever wanted that kind of day. </p><p>It was early evening when Edge escorted Sans into the same room he woke up in. Except now there was a small table with food adorning the surface, and a pitcher of booze Sans could smell from the doorway. Edge made a long-suffering noise as he picked his way to said pitcher and gave it a sniff. “IT APPEARS MY BROTHER HAS DECIDED TO MAKE HIMSELF HELPFUL BY PROVIDING SOCIAL LUBRICANT STRONG ENOUGH TO KNOCK AN EARTH ELEMENTAL ON ITS ASS.” And just like that, the formalities of the day were cracked, replaced with a moodiness more befitting a teenager than a king. But Edge was young, wasn’t he? Just like Paps. Matured by experience rather than time, and raised in a world where crass words and violence were apparently the norm. </p><p>Sans slumped into a chair and picked up a wine glass, “whelp, get pouring then.”</p><p>“YOU WISH TO DRINK THIS SWILL?”</p><p>“yep,” he said, popping the p. “given my lacking alcohol tolerance i might make it through half a glass before i’m hammered.” </p><p>“...NO.”</p><p>“why not?”</p><p>Edge ignored his whine in favor of taking the pitcher into the bathroom, likely to pour the alcohol down the drain before Sans could get any bright ideas. Or bad ones. Sans trailed after him, “i want a drink.”</p><p>“NO,” he glowered, poised over the sink.</p><p>“it’ll...erg...it’ll make the next part of the ceremony easier. for both of us. your brother is a version of me, he knew what he was doing.”</p><p>“MY BROTHER WAS A LAYABOUT DRUNKARD WITH A DEATH WISH UNTIL I KICKED HIS TEETH IN. I AM NOT ABOUT TO TOLERATE SUCH BEHAVIOR FROM MY PRINCE CONSORT!”</p><p>“woah, buddy, pal, i wasn’t sayin’ i’d drink myself stupid every night. just...wanted, as you called it, some social lubrication. otherwise, there aint gonna be any other kind of lubrication if ya catch my drift. which may make things a bit...uncomfortable.”</p><p>“...I have little interest in fucking you while you’re half-unconcious.”</p><p>“but you’d use the deltarune to <i>encourage</i> my compliance?”</p><p>“I do not wish to do that either,” Edge muttered, dropping the pitcher beside the sink, the liquid within sloshing over the lip. “However, I will do what I must for my kingdom.”</p><p>“look, how about this, we have a few sips of the wood polish you got there with our dinner and see if there is uh...encouragement needed. tibia-honest, i don’t really feel like fightin’ with ya about this. like you said, i’ve got two choices. behave or be made to behave. i’d like to avoid the latter.”</p><p>“YOU MAY HAVE A HALF GLASS AND NO MORE WITH DINNER. AND YOU MUST EAT, UNDERSTOOD?”</p><p>There was a light press of the rune, not quite invoked, but reminding Sans of its presence. He inclined his chin. Edge stalked out of the bathroom and poured them both exactly half a glass of the spiked wine, before setting it aside and pulling out a chair for Sans. With no other better choices, Sans sat down and began to eat, chasing down the simple fare of cheese and roasted mushrooms with their provided pick of poison. It tasted terrible and sent a shudder down Sans’ spine with each sip, but by the time he was done with the dinner, the glass was empty, and his head was delightfully muzzy. He wasn’t sloshed, but there was a soft smudging on the rough edges of his emotions, like someone smeared them with petroleum jelly and said, eh, good enough. </p><p>They didn’t speak. What could be said that wouldn’t worsen the tension? Sans was too tired for accusations and more bitter, cutting words. He could poke and chip and wear away at his husband’s defenses, make him angry and spiteful, but what would that foster beyond animosity? Escape was not an option. Neither did he think Edge’s would suddenly decide to leave their vows unconsummated when doing so would simply delay the arrival of a needed heir. He could wonder why him, but Sans knew. Deep down, he honestly knew why he was here in this situation. For whatever reason, Edge wouldn’t—or couldn’t—take Red as his chosen consort (or if Sans understood himself as well as Red knew him, then he’d bank on Red being the one that turned down the arrangement.) </p><p>Sans happened to have the misfortune of looking like the one Edge loved (if these LV calloused monsters could still do so) and vulnerable. And Red took whole advantage of it to make Edge happy. A nice, soft, squishy version of himself to keep his little brother warm at night. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that conclusion. Or the fact that he was able to think so clearly at all.</p><p>When Edge stood, Sans remained in his chair, eyeing the pitcher with disappointment. Maybe he could convince his new husband to let him have another half glass, just to make sure all goes swimmingly? “Come here.” He glanced up to see the dark skeleton sitting on the overlarge bed. Right. Consummation of their vows and heir making time. He could do this. He didn’t need the compulsion of the rune or to be black out drunk. Sans followed the gentle tug of the softly spoken order. It was one he could shrug off if he wished. But compliance was easier. Edge didn’t go straight for the Soul, but instead, asked Sans to help him remove his armor. A husband did that for his spouse. This was simple. This was easy.</p><p>He started with the cloak, then the pauldrons. Next came the gauntlets and the gloves without palms. His chestplate soon followed, along with other bits and bobs Sans didn’t know the names of. Soon came the boots. Edge stared at him. Expectantly. A challenge perhaps? Was he waiting for Sans to protest? To fight? To say no? His dignity was long since ground into the dirt. So he knelt and unclasped the greaves protecting Edge’s shins, and once those were set to the side, he began unlacing those fine, fitted leather boots. His hands were unsteady. Clumsy. But after some foundering with the ties, he managed to pull the first boot off. Then the other. There was something intimate about this whole affair. </p><p>“Stand up,” Edge murmured, and he rose as well, removing Sans’ own armor with stoic professionalism. But he didn’t stop there. His hands found the laces of the robes and he began to loosen those as well. This was happening. Sans drew in long, shuddering breath. Cold air caressed his bones as the fabric slid free of his shoulders to pool at his hips. Sans covered Edge’s hands with his own and pushed it the rest of the way to the floor. Stars, this was surreal. Bare-boned and tipsy in the arms of his warlord husband that was his brother from an alternate timeline. Yeah...he needed more to drink if he was going to get through this. He wasn’t ready to try shanking Edge and running for his life, but he certainly wasn’t in the mood for any soul fondling or any other kinds of fondling really.</p><p>His husband gingerly rested his hands on Sans’ hips, touch featherlight, but he pulled away almost as quick, as if burned. When Sans didn’t flinch or whatever he was expecting to happen, Edge ghosted his phalange tips along Sans’ arms, then his ribs and spine, as if uncertain where or how to touch his new spouse. Neither of them were drunk enough for this it seemed. “y’know, if we’re supposed to make a child out of mutual love and desire or whatever, you should probably at least try kissing me.”</p><p>“That seemed inappropriate given the circumstances behind our union.”</p><p>“really, touching the soul of and making baby with a stranger is totally a-okay. even blackmailing said stranger into agreeing is just jolly good. but you draw the line at kissing and screwing around while shitfaced. good to know.”</p><p>Sans clamped his mouth shut when he saw Edge’s expression tighten, well aware that he just said the wrong thing. His soul sped up as he thought about the brothers’ threats and the prospect of losing all agency. Of pissing off Edge so much that he called the contract null-and-void and went back to his universe to dust everyone there. He winced, half expecting the other to hit him for the slight, but no strike came. His hard look was tinged with sadness. </p><p>
  <i>If it helps you accept your situation to frame it in such a manner, then yes. Paint me the villian.</i>
</p><p>Edge already admitted he would play the part if Sans cast him in the roll. His uncertain hands stopped their wary quest and he grasped the unwanted collar on Sans’ throat. “I shouldn’t have let you drink that vulkin piss. I could have guessed this would be the result.” He looked more angry with himself than with Sans’ smart mouth. Oh, right. Red was apparently a drunk until Edge helped him kick the habit, literally.</p><p>“look, we both knew how this night was gonna end once the vows were made. i don’t have to be happy about it, but i reserve the right to tell you off for making me feel cheap because you won’t swap spit but you were game for swapping other fluids. i realize this marriage schtick is for a truce and i’m nothing but a vessel for your heirs, but—”</p><p>Sans was silenced by Edge yanking him into a kiss by the collar. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t...passionless. He yelped as the other scooped him up and tossed him onto the bed. “YOUR CHOICE, JUDGE. WHAT IS IT?” There was a strange stirring in his Soul that skittered down his spine. Oh fuck you arousal. Shitty moment to show interest. “IT IS OBVIOUS YOU DO NOT TRUST ME ENOUGH TO BRING FORTH YOUR SOUL WITHOUT PHYSICAL STIMULATION. I CAN LEAVE NOW OR WE CAN PROCEED.”</p><p>“heh, not the options i was expecting.”</p><p>His soul fluttered a little when he realized that Edge just gave him the chance to call it off. To tell him no. He didn’t think...no...he didn’t think. Or he would have picked up the hints the brothers left before. </p><p>“WOULD YOU RATHER THEY’D BEEN ‘DO YOU WANT ME TO INVOKE THE RUNE OR JUST FORCE MYSELF ON YOU THE NORMAL WAY’?”</p><p>Edge didn’t want to traumatize Sans—didn’t wish to turn their union into little more than legalized rape, with Sans as a helpless puppet, happy and compliant because he was ordered to be, all of him lost to the Oath.</p><p>“ouch. when you put it like that—”</p><p>“CHOOSE.”</p><p>“—i’d rather you just let me have some more wine and kiss me again. and before you snap at me, i’m not aimin’ to pass out. just to feel...cuddly.” Or as Grillby liked to put it (before the world went to hell): wretchedly touch-starved. Sans didn’t like getting that far along, as he tended to demand physical affection and became desolate if nobody would help hug away the blues. Usually Grillby would call Papyrus if Sans got too deep in his cups, and the younger skeleton would let Sans cling to him and tell him what a wonderful brother he was until Sans fell asleep.</p><p>“NO MORE WINE.”   </p><p>“and the kiss?”</p><p>He searched Sans’ face before kneeling over him and carefully pressing their teeth together. Okay, He could make this work. He was still too weirded out to go for tongue, but he reached for the front of Edge’s shirt. With some effort, the both of them worked off the garment. He was absolutely covered in cracks and scars. His bones a mosaic of battles hard won. Edge couldn’t be older than what...twenty-one? Paps was younger than that. Just eighteen when he took the throne. Was it possible this dark shadow was the same? </p><p>Sharp teeth grazed his clavicle, curious hands settled low on Sans’ spine. Interest stirred again, sparking along heated manalines. </p><p>“y’gonna take off your pants?”</p><p>A phalange grazed his sacrum. His hips jolted. O-oh. Okay.</p><p>Edge’s response was low and dark, like a sacred vow, “Eventually.”</p><p> </p><p>Monsters of all types are physically compatible if one considered that all reproduction occurred through the merging of Souls and a mutual desire strong enough to create offspring. True, a water elemental and a fire elemental were unlikely to attempt mating, given their very different preferred ecosystems, but it was possible with enough love and trust. Some monsters required very little physical stimulation to be in a receptive state, such as moldsmalls or whimsums, while other, more substantial monsters, often did. A goat monster like the monarchs or a fish monster like Undyne, were unlikely to bare their soul to anyone but an established partner. Skeletons fell in a funny place there in the middle, alongside elementals and ghosts. Entirely capable of reproducing with a trusted bond partner without physical stimulation, but could produce creative equipment to be compatible with any interested parties' urges. </p><p>The Mages of Yore were said to be the result of humans and monsters breeding. Monster’s own adaptability and humans’ deep wells of untapped magical potential colliding together into what resulted in monsterkind’s own downfall. The Mages were more powerful than monsters. Trapped and bound them. Betrayed them.</p><p>(It was little wonder that not all monsters were eager to see the Surface. Some yearned for the sky, but others...they worried of violence. Of the mage’s descendants bringing the last of them to ruin.)</p><p>However, Sans had never attempted to merge his Soul with another monster. Edge exploring his bones, ravishing him with tongue and tooth, he could get lost in the sensations. But it didn’t elicit a yearning to draw forth his Soul. He really, really wished Edge let him have another cup of booze, but needs must. He focused only on the pleasure. Not on the strangeness or the reasons why they were even in this position. Instead he was pliant in his husband’s arms, muttering soft encouragement, his sockets screwed shut. </p><p>“Let me see you,” Edge murmured against his sternum, almost lovingly, hand whispering over his chest. It was easy. He just. Had. To. Let. Go. Sans shuddered and allowed the other to free his Soul, to see the core of him, that tiny, broken...He goggled at the pitiful little fragment that was HIM. Bright white but riddled with hairline fractures like scars. Despair did that to a monster. The only thing he lived for was Paps after all. He half-expected Edge to recoil from the sight, but the other monster stared like a starving man. (Or a freezing one presented with a campfire—did his magic really feel that warm to him?) Edge didn’t wait for Sans to reciprocate, and instead drew out his own soul and Sans quite suddenly understood. Compared to his own, Edge was calloused with deep scars carved into it, the kind made by grief...by breaking one’s own character again-and-again. </p><p>Monsters weren’t made to be murderous. They were creatures of compassion. </p><p>“Don’t pity me,” Edge growled. “I am king.” As if that was the answer to every question Sans may have, he touched their Souls together. And Sans lost himself in the sensation.</p><p> </p><p>When Sans awoke, it was to Edge climbing out of bed. He listened to him pull on his pants and felt the tug of a CHECK. </p><p>“well?” Sans rasped. </p><p>“It didn’t take. We will need to try again.”</p><p>“oh.”</p><p>Edge leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of Sans’ skull, “I will return tonight. Sans will check on you throughout the day and bring you meals. I...do hope you did not find our activities last night so repugnant that you require inebriation again.”</p><p>“me drinking really bothers you, don’t it?”</p><p>“It is a loathsome habit. One I shall not permit of the one who will carry the heirs to the kingdom.”</p><p>“already thinkin’ plural?”</p><p>“The saying is ‘an heir and a spare’ I believe. And I admit I am curious if any offspring between yourself and my brother will carry karma, or if that is merely a side-effect of the judge living in your bones.”</p><p>Sans sat up, “he was serious about that!”</p><p>Edge arched a browbone, “You are terribly dense sometimes. What better way to protect my own lineage than with progeny that can cripple an a high LV foe without needing dust on their hands first? I would advise returning to sleep, it is not dawn yet.”</p><p>“i’m not fucking your brother!”</p><p>“Not currently, no.”</p><p>“not ever.”</p><p>“He will enjoy the challenge,” Edge tipped Sans back against the pillows. “Now sleep. I’d rather you not do so while we are in the middle of our more rigorous activities.” </p><p>Sans covered his face and groaned as Edge went about his morning routine, humming lightly under his breath, a skip to his step.</p><p> </p><p>	“m’bro looked real happy this morning.”</p><p>	Sans flipped Red the middle finger as he attacked his breakfast of toast and eggs. Red cackled like the gremlin he was, and snarfed down his own plate of food like a heathen, slathering the whole plate in mustard. Gross. As he fiddled with his cup of water, Sans slumped in his chair, “what does a guy hafta do for some ketchup? i haven’t seen a speck of it since arriving here.”</p><p>	“thata request, sansy boy?”</p><p>	He eyed his doppleganger, “maybe.” </p><p>“boss don’t like me drinking condiments and prolly won’t getcher any unless yer get him real sweet on yer. he’s a bit o control freak when it comes to that sort o’ stuff.”</p><p>“oh, how do you get your mustard then?”</p><p>Red’s face contorted into fiendish delight, “yer really wanna know?”</p><p>“eh, y’know what, changed my mind.”</p><p>“oh, no-no, can’t back out now,” he laughed. “see, he likes it when i do this wit my tongue when i—”</p><p>Sans clapped his hands over the sides of his skull, “dude, i do not need to hear the details about how you fuck your brother.” Nor did he really want the confirmation of the suspicions he held this entire time.</p><p>“well excuuuuuse me princess. didn’t mean to offense yer sensibilities. here i am, offering honest, helpful advice…”</p><p>“no, you’re trying to traumatize me.”</p><p>“and yet here yer are, lettin’ me do it. settlin’ in, pal? assume he didn’t need to pull the choke chain on yer if yer both in such a good mood.”</p><p>“if you must know, no, he didn’t need to invoke the deltarune. it would have made a shitty situation worse. at least this way he knows that if a kid happens, i...i actually wanted it.” Sans absently rubbed his own chest, bruises from Edge’s teeth lurking beneath his clothes. “i think he’s concerned that i won’t love our kids if—when—we have them.”</p><p>“will yer?”</p><p>“what?”</p><p>“love your kids?”</p><p>“believe it or not, i like children, and wasn’t planning on hating them even when the whole heir thing came up.”</p><p>“real easy to resent ‘em for their parentage though,” Red said, slipped out his chair to round on Sans. “look a lil too much like their father and not enough like yer. be real easy to take that frustration out on the kiddo.”</p><p>Sans stood up, refusing to be looked down on, “fuck off. m’not going to abuse my kids. what’s climbed up your pelvis and died?”</p><p>“heh. good to know,” Red grinned like a shark that scented blood in the water. “now, yer mentioned ketchup.”</p><p>“why do i feel like i’m going to regret ever mentioning it?”</p><p>“don’t get all wound up, sansy. i’ll get yer vice and mebbe even some fries to go wit’ ‘em. sound nice?”</p><p>“uh-huh and the catch?”</p><p>Red dropped his eyelights to Sans’ neck, where the impression of Edge’s eager fangs no doubt stood out like a brand. He wouldn’t be able to cover them without a damn scarf. And he doubted he’d get one because then it would cover the collar and the both of them seemed really fixated on the whole collar thing. “i wanna watch.”</p><p>“excuse me, what?”</p><p>He reached out and skimmed a thumb over the mark, “yer and the boss. i wanna watch. or...i could be convinced to settle fer yer watching us. i could go fer either. not picky.” Red shrugged. “or yer can try to figure out how to convince boss on yer own and that will definitely take longer. depends on how quick yer want it.” Sans opened his mouth to tell the jackass off, but Red laughed and made for the door, “think on it sansy. i can be yer best friend. but if yer want me to rub yer back, gotta rub mine first. see ya fer lunch.”</p><p>And then he was gone, leaving Sans alone with his thoughts, and the growing realization of exactly what his life had become.</p><p>He was married now. </p><p>And he was considering letting his brother-in-law play voyer for a damn bottle of ketchup.</p><p>“well paps. fuck if i know what i’m doing anymore.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>-FIN-</p><p>If you like this fic and want to see more in this universe, you gotta tell me. In fact, <a href="https://catsitta.tumblr.com/post/628179399011909632/inkpromtober-2020">I'm running a poll for what I should do for Pomptober 2020</a>, and another installment in this universe is an option! </p><p>I do hope everyone enjoyed this little venture and I will see y'all in the next project. ^_^</p><p>Author's Notes:<br/>+ This was meant to be a 4k oneshot that ended at the first chapter point, where Sans realizes he can't go against his new King. </p><p>+ A lot of this fic was heavily based in the King Papyrus and I believe what is called the Dog ending? Basically, Sans, even when he is the last 'powerful' monster we know of in the Underground, doesn't have any interest in ruling. But he'd do whatever it takes to make Papyrus happy...Even if it's rather implied that Paps isn't the best of kings. He's a smart guy, but as the saying goes 'the path to hell is paved with good intentions'. </p><p>+ As for why Paps signed Sans over to the Fell brothers...well, that was a mix of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had to put his faith in Edge's Papyrus-ness that he would stay true to his promise. Because if he didn't sign the truce, well, Sans would be dead anyway. (Because let's be real, at this point, if something had happened to Paps, Sans isn't defending himself.)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Want updates on my current projects or maybe see some UT fanart? Check out my <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/catsitta">tumblr</a> for more.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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